Adventures of John: Winchesters

Chapter 1: Hunting

"Carry on my wayward son,

There'll be peace when you are done.

Lay your weary head to rest,

Don't you cry no more."

"Are you sure about this one, Sammy?" Dean asked as he drove the Impala down the highway.

"As sure as we ever are," Sam answered, flipping through a newspaper. "There have been over a dozen mysterious disappearances in the past week and several witnesses claimed they saw 'shadowy creatures' in the woods. One witness even claimed he saw what looked like 'a tear in reality, opening into nothingness'."

"Is it possible that this is just your run of the mill crazy?" Dean asked. "That 'tear in reality' thing sounds pretty loco to me. Plus there weren't any weird deaths or strangely mutilated corpses or anything."

"That's because they haven't been able to find any bodies," Sam answered. "I checked this town out, and they haven't had a single missing person in the past six years, and now over a dozen have gone missing in a single week."

"Where is this place again?" Dean asked.

"Littleton Ohio," Sam answered with a chuckle.

"Okay then," Dean responded. "Let's go check out Little Town."

. . . . .

The fortress was as imposing as a fortress could be, built of black stone with twisting, jagged spires of dark iron jutting from the ramparts. The central tower stretched into the sky, a dark orb at its summit spewing forth grey, shadowy mist that covered everything in sight. Suits of black armor marched across the walls, animated by vile magics. Everything about the place screamed that this was the residence of something dark and terrible.

Suddenly the gates burst open, a gnarled old goblin rushing in, gasping for breath. "He's here," the creature gasped. "The Adventurer has come."

A hush fell over the fortress as every suit of armor ceased its movement. These were creatures that were incapable of emotion. They were nothing more than magic and metal. And yet, hearing these words, they felt fear. There was not a single being on the darker side of the magical realms that didn't know to fear that name. For the very first time, these fearless, unholy warriors knew what it meant to be afraid.

Suddenly a burst of golden light speared through the swirling black clouds above, leaving a deep crater as it landed just before the dark iron gates. A figure strode out of the crater, flaming red cloak flowing behind him, golden armor gleaming brightly. Behind the shadow of the hood, golden light poured from the eyes of the Adventurer. He stood triumphantly as the numerous suits of armor stood completely still on the fortress ramparts.

John the Adventurer smiled coldly up at them, and whispered a single word. "Boo."

A massive shockwave burst from his lips, shattering the walls before him, sending suits of armor crashing to the ground to be crushed by falling rubble. The remaining metal soldiers fled, only to be impaled by thousands of spears of light. The gnarled old goblin tried to crawl away, only to find his path blocked by the golden boots of the Adventurer.

"Where is your master, little creature?" John questioned, lifting the goblin by its throat. The minion lifted a trembling figure toward the tower, which had been left strangely untouched by John's blast. John dropped the goblin and strode purposefully towards the tower. When he reached the base of the tower he floated up to the top, coming face-to-face with an ancient, skeletal lich dressed in a moth-bitten robe.

"So, you have come," the lich rasped. "You seek to learn more about the rifts, and so you search for their origin."

"You were the one that created that accursed spell, thousands of years ago," John responded. "You crafted the spell that is causing these rifts. So you know how to destroy it for good."

"Actually, I do not," the lich responded calmly. "For you see, I did not craft the spell you speak of. It was given to me, and in the foolishness of youth, and the natural pride of humanity, as I was still human back then, I claimed the spell of my own. I had thought I was done with the trouble that spell caused, but apparently I was mistaken."

"If you didn't make the spell, then who did?" John inquired.

"I honestly don't know," the lich responded. "But even at the time I could sense its power. This spell was not crafted by men, nor demons, nor the deities of any pantheon we now know. Whatever crafted this spell was far more ancient, and far more powerful. How else could such a spell work even in universes without magic?"

"So you have nothing that can help me," John concluded.

"I do not," the lich agreed. "So you can leave now and continue your search elsewhere. You know you cannot kill me without discovering the location of my phylactery."

"Who says I don't know the location?" John asked, a cold smile spreading across his face as he drew out a flaming blade. He flung the blade through the air to impale the massive, fog-spewing orb. The lich cried out in pain as the blade struck, clutching at his chest. "Did you really think I would come here without knowing for certain what your phylactery was and where it was located?" John asked, floating towards the orb. "I guess your foolishness remained even when your humanity did not." With this final statement he grabbed his sword and forced it in deeper, splitting the massive orb in two.

The lich wailed as sickly energy poured out of the broken orb, pouring into him. Electricity crackled in the air around him as he screamed, energy pouring off him in waves. Suddenly it stopped, and he disintegrated into a pile of dust. The tower shook, and John flew off as it crumpled to dust, along with what remained of the fortress walls and suits of armor.

. . . . .

"I am Agent Reynolds," Sam said, looking like a giant next to his brother Dean. "And this is Agent Smith." The two of them were dressed in black suits, displaying a pair of expertly-forged FBI badges. "What can you tell us about the recent disappearances?"

"Not much to tell," the aging sheriff answered. "One moment they were there, and then the next they weren't. A family member or friend would be with them, they'd leave the room for a moment, and when they came back they were gone."

"Is there any possibility these people ran away?" Dean inquired.

"Sure, it's possible," the sheriff answered. "But not very likely. They weren't having any family problems or anything, didn't have any reason to run away. Old Man Jeb disappeared, and he's so frail he can barely move, much less run off."

"Can you point us in the direction of one of the places where someone went missing?" Sam asked him.

"Sure," the sheriff answered. "They all happened on the west side of town. Lots of farms over there. Jimmy Crow's farm might be a good place to start. Though why this warrants a couple of feds like you beats me."

"Just doing our job," Dean responded. "Come on, Agent Reynolds. Let's take a look at Jimmy Crow's farm."

. . . . .

I fumed alone in my room for several minutes after my failure with the lich. I had been having no success for my search for the source of the rifts. All inquiring into who might have the spell now was pointless. Any searching into other possibilities as to the cause of the sudden appearance of all these rifts resulted in similar failure. Also, no one seemed to be able to tell me why these rifts kept on opening near me or why a new rift always opened just long enough to take me back. That lich had been my only good lead in days(realm time), and as it turned out he was just as much of a dead end as everything else.

But there were other things I had to do. There was still the problem of a secret society spreading its power throughout the realms, a society that remained secret despite all attempts at revealing them. There was also something else that I had been avoiding. Something far more dangerous than rifts or liches or secret societies. I had to explain to my wife why I hadn't visited for so long.

. . . . .

"So what do you think?" Dean asked as he shone a flashlight around the barn. "Demons? Leviathan maybe?"

"The people just vanished," Sam answered. "No eyes going black or people suddenly going crazy. And while a Leviathan could eat someone whole, it would take too long for them to go it, eat the person, and run before the people came back."

"The people described seeing something shadowy, didn't they?" Dean questioned. "Black smoke is pretty shadowy."

"They saw shadowy creatures," Sam corrected. "I don't think this is anything we've seen before. I think this is something new."

"Well that's just great," Dean sighed. "As if we didn't have enough to worry about. Angels running around, civil war in Hell, that Gadriel guy messing things up, still no way to kill Abbadon, and now we have to add something new in the mix."

"We'll deal with it just like we deal with everything else," Sam muttered, searching through some hay bales.

"Um… Sammy?" Dean asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yah Dean?"

"I think I found it."

Sam pointed his flashlight up at the ceiling, directly at the creature, which immediately attacked.